(That day the rain had halted
(after two and a half days of drizzle and torrential))
The words are hanging on the clothesline; they are wet, they are shivering
I asked them to come in and sit down on the lines of my diary.
They reject my proposal rudely and continue the hanging
to the tune of wet breeze.
I realized or shall I say I deduced they are looking for the warmth
Of yours. No, not of your body nor of your lips
But, of your voice
to speak them out.